


Sweet talk

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Genre: First Time, Kink/Cliche Challenge, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Harry discovers that Perry can talk him in to things</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet talk

**Author's Note:**

> This answers the 'dirty talk' prompt on my [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card.

Before we get started, I need to get one thing straight: this is all Perry's fault.

You're surprised, I can tell. Which kind of hurts my feelings and shit. But guess what? I'll get over it! I'm used to being underestimated. Perry does it all the time, along with the swearing and the shouting and that incredibly gay nose-tapping thing that kind of reminds me of my niece Chloe.

Okay, see what I did there? How I slipped in the thing about Perry swearing without making it seem like a total non sequitur? That part's important; you'll find out why in a minute; but for the purposes me narrating here, let's just say that Perry swears a lot when he's mad.

Which he kind of _is_ right now.

He's doing all the usual angry-Perry things: the swearing, the shouting, the heavy breathing in my ear. And it's not like I go out of my way to make him mad. Perry's an angry guy; that's just who he is. He complains no matter what I do.

But, _Jesus_ , who knew there would be side effects? _I_ certainly didn't! I really didn't! And _that's_ the real reason I'm in this mess.

Let me back up a little and explain.

          ~~~

> Perry had some huge case in San Diego, so he left me in L.A. with a long list of instructions on _how not to fuck up his life while he was away_.
> 
> There was the part where he snapped, "Of course not, idiot," when I asked him if I could go too. Then he said, "Don't call me, don't take on any new clients and for Christ's sake try not to get yourself shot," right before he walked out the door.

          ~~~

I remember the whole thing like it happened yesterday. Possibly because it _did_ happen yesterday? Whatever.

 _Today_ was all about the 'no'. No cases, no _detecting_ , just me and all the crap Perry _didn't_ want me to do.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, because I'm not. Only a crazy person complains about being paid _not_ to do stuff. It's just before I came to L.A. I was a respectable thief. I had prospects; I was going places, and not all of them involved maximum security.

 _Now_ things have changed. _I've_ changed! And I know L.A. kind of does that to people, unless you were born here or something, in which case you were just genetically predisposed to be fucked up from birth. But, see, that's the problem right there: things are so fucking far from normal for me that I'm not sure who I am any more. Every day now I do things I don't understand. I pay my taxes; I'm registered to vote; I eat so much 'organic' that when I take a shit, it's more or less free-range.

But, apparently, none of that counts with Perry! Oh no, in his incredibly gay world, I'm still not good enough to do the laundry or touch his car or buy groceries from the store around the block. And you know what? That's bullshit. Because I _am_ good enough, and I can prove it, even if it means going up against the toughest gay guy I know.

Fine, Perry's the only gay guy I know. My point is the best way to get Perry to admit he's wrong is to show him exactly how much he needs me.

Right?

          ~~~

> So I decided to ignore Perry's list and I did the laundry anyway. It took me all of ten minutes to throw his whites in with my colours. Then I took his car to the car wash, where I may have accidentally left the windows open. In the afternoon, I ordered in Chinese because, as brave as I was, I wasn't crazy enough to cook in Perry's kitchen without permission. After that, I got bored.
> 
> So bored not even the thought of messing with Perry's precious DVD collection could get me excited.
> 
> Then it hit me! What did the average red-blooded American guy do when his boss went out of town and left _him_ alone in the office?

          ~~~

So this next part probably seems a little weird. But like I said, I was bored, okay? Sue me!

Like _you've_ never jerked off at work before.

***

Anyway, _that_ seemed like a good idea. Until I got a better one: I was going to do it in the big red chair Perry got for Christmas.

Kinky, huh? I thought so too! I mean, Perry loves that chair. He's always all *do not touch my fucking chair, take your feet off my fucking chair, get the fuck away from my fucking chair*. You get the picture!

Also, notice how often he says _'fuck'_ about that chair?

You can see now how this is all his fault. I mean, if he didn't say _'fuck'_ about his chair the whole time, I would never have got the idea in the first place.

          ~~~

> So, I sat in Perry's Christmas chair, then I put my feet up on his desk. And there I was a few minutes later, giving _little Harry_ the kind of hard, slow stroke that made my stomach shiver with pleasure, when all of a sudden the phone started ringing.
> 
> Now, no way was I picking that up.
> 
> Why would I? I wasn't supposed to be in Perry's office, I was supposed to be out front watching paint dry or some bullshit. Also, Perry had this nasty habit of checking up on me since that one time he caught me goofing off on the job. I knew the guy had some serious trust issues, but—whatever! At this point, only an idiot would have picked up. And since I wasn't an idiot, I absolutely did _not_ pick up the phone.
> 
> Except I did.
> 
> ***
> 
> Perry said, "What are you doing, Harry?"
> 
> I went: "Huh?"
> 
> Perry's voice got louder and angrier. Literally, it felt like he was right there breathing down my neck, snarling: "Did I not say that in English? I asked you what you were doing in my office!"
> 
> I nearly dropped the phone right then, because hearing him talk like that made my cock twitch so hard I thought I was going to come. But I knew Perry. If I hung up on him, he would find some way to be over here in ten minutes flat. So I said, "Oh, hey, Perry! Nothing at all! I mean, I thought I might have dropped something in here, but no, not a thing," trying to be smooth about it.
> 
> Perry responded with a huge sigh. "What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you _not_ to go into my office under any circumstances? What else have you done? Did you touch my car?"
> 
> "No, of course not," I lied, thinking about the thing at the car wash, then the laundry and the half-eaten Mu Shu pork sitting in the sink. There was no point telling the truth; it would just have upset him. Sometimes, lying to Perry was a whole lot easier, especially when my cock kept throbbing and dripping, taking me nearer the edge with every slide through my fist.
> 
> Unfortunately, Perry knew me far too well for that. He knew all my guilty faces; more importantly, he knew my guilty voice. Right now, _that_ voice was screaming: _'Oh, man, are you busted, Harry! You are totally fucking busted!'_ So, of course, somehow Perry heard it.
> 
> "Harry," he said in a threatening tone. "You'd better not be jerking off on my time, you son of a bitch!"
> 
> For once, I kept my mouth shut. I had to, in case he called me on that too. But no way was I stopping now, even though it _was_ a little weird to jerk off with Perry yelling down the phone at me. God, I wasn't sure I _could_ stop even if I wanted to, because something about Perry's voice was driving me crazy, and I was so turned on now I could feel myself shaking.
> 
> "Hey, Perry," I whispered when he shut up for a moment and started breathing in my ear like some incredibly hot porn star. "Look, do you think you could run that by me one more time?"
> 
> " _What_?"
> 
> "Well, I must have lost the piece of paper I was writing it on, and—"
> 
> " _Jesus_! Are you even _listening_ to me?"
> 
> I could feel it start then, in the way my toes curled and my back arched, and no matter how much I slowed down my strokes, I knew I wouldn't last much longer. "Perry," I gasped, "just—oh God, _please_ —" because it was too good, and too soon, and I didn't want it to be over just yet.
> 
> But Perry snapped, "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you insane? One of these days, I swear I will fuck you like the gigantic pain in the ass you are!"
> 
> And that was it for me. All I could do was sit there trembling in Perry's chair, feeling my hips jerk and stutter as the pleasure rolled right through me. I might have lost consciousness for a moment; either way, I definitely saw stars. And in the end, I slumped back down, utterly wrecked, trying not to sound like I'd just come all over myself.
> 
> ***
> 
> "Perry?" I croaked a few minutes later. "Perry, you still there?"
> 
> I had to swallow several times after that because, suddenly, my throat felt incredibly raw. It felt like I'd been screaming, which I did sometimes when it was really good. And, _fuck_ , I hoped to _Christ_ I hadn't just screamed.
> 
> On the other end, the line went *click*.

          ~~~

You know that thing I mentioned earlier about Perry being home in ten minutes?

Well, he made it in four. Luckily, I'd cleaned up most of the evidence by then. But one thing that never goes away is that Perry's a 'private eye'. A very _gay_ 'private eye'.

Once again, I've got to ask the question: are all gay guys come-bloodhounds or something? Because, I swear to God, after he walks into his office, he just stands there sniffing at the air.

          ~~~

> "Harry, what were you doing before I got here?"
> 
> "Nothing?" That sounded convincing, right? I mean, _I_ was convinced, so Perry had to be. And that vein throbbing in his forehead wasn't necessarily a bad sign. "Okay, listen," I said once it became absolutely clear that Perry wasn't buying it. "I might have done a bit of cleaning, and maybe, just maybe, I took your car to—"
> 
> "You jerked off in my chair, didn't you?"
> 
> What? _What?_ "No, I—" How the _fuck_ did he— "Okay, maybe just a little?"
> 
> " _A little_?" And there it was: Perry was shouting again. "How much is a little, fuckhead? Is that the size of your dick?"
> 
> Before I could deny that, Perry smacked me round the back of my head.
> 
> "*Ow*!" I glared at him.
> 
> "Oh, I'm sorry, did that hurt?" Then Perry gave me another smack. "You jerked off in my chair? The antique, one-of-a-kind, Louis-XIV chair my mother got me from France? What the fuck were you thinking?"
> 
> I really, _really_ didn't have an answer for that. Besides, all of a sudden, I had bigger problems. The kind of problem that wasn't supposed to be here because, you know what, I wasn't a fucking teenager any more. This shit was _not_ supposed to happen again so soon after I'd jerked off. But it _was_ happening, and it _did_ happen, and it was so much worse this time around because Perry was right there in front of me, close enough to touch, to taste.
> 
> God, he smelled good! Why did he always have to smell so good?
> 
> I tried to back away before I did something stupid like jump him. Only, Perry took that to mean that I was bailing on him.
> 
> "You are not walking away from this," he said, matching me stride for stride. Which was how I ended up with my back against the wall and with Perry pressed up against me.
> 
> ***
> 
> The next few minutes were kind of embarrassing since I knew Perry could feel how turned on I was. He spent an incredibly long time watching me squirm, watching my face slowly go bright red. And he definitely got the part where I liked him taking control, because he didn't ease up one bit.
> 
> "Harry, you are one weird son of a bitch," he murmured in the end, making me shiver; I couldn't help it. "Oh, and while we're at it—" he pressed even closer. "That was _not_ me talking dirty to you, asshole!"
> 
> He was trying to look pissed off, but I could tell he was pleased by my reaction. It was there in the way he rolled his hips up against mine, giving me just that little bit more friction.
> 
> I pushed forward then, trying to get even closer, trying to kiss him—anything I could get. But Perry grabbed a hold of my hair and then used it pull me back, tilting my head to just the perfect angle for him to brush his lips against my ear.
> 
> "Ah, Harry," he breathed right there.
> 
> My knees went weak.
> 
> "You really _do_ get off on this shit, don't you? You'd probably love it if I held you down and then fucked you while I yelled at you the whole time, huh?"
> 
> After that, I _had_ to clutch at his shoulders just to stay standing. I could feel myself nodding desperately, struggling to get as close to him as I could. And, oh God, was that me _whimpering_?
> 
> Suddenly, I was all alone because Perry pulled away from me abruptly. Before I could ask him what was wrong, he snarled, "Well, _this_ is what you get for jerking off in my favourite chair!"
> 
> ***
> 
> I screamed. I was so fucking frustrated, I just screamed, "Perry, you fuck! You fucking fuck!"
> 
> "Maybe when I get back." And Perry smirked at me on his way out the door. "Only if you're a good boy, though, Harry. Only if you're good!"
> 
> If I'd been anywhere near that fucking chair, I would probably have thrown it at him.

          ~~~

So, after all the drama, Perry's leaving for San Diego again. It turns out he forgot some incredibly important file on his desk, which he didn't trust me to send to him. And that's the reason why he came back in the first place.

 _Now_ I've got an even _longer_ list of things _not_ to do while he's away. But you know what? Screw that! I think I've proved my point. The best way to get what _I_ want from Perry is to break every one of his stupid rules.

People, it's going to be a great week!

  
The End.


End file.
